A Riddle for the Spinner
by CharlotteAshmore
Summary: After losing his family in the ogre wars, Rumpelstiltskin flees the Frontlands and accepts a position as spinner for Avonlea's king. Over time, he heals from his loss, forming a special friendship with the princess. When it is time for her to marry, she devises a plan to keep the suitors at bay. She will only marry the man who can solve her riddle … she will only marry the man w


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**Summary:** After losing his family in the ogre wars, Rumpelstiltskin flees the Frontlands and accepts a position as spinner for Avonlea's king. Over time, he heals from his loss, forming a special friendship with the princess. When it is time for her to marry, she devises a plan to keep the suitors at bay. She will only marry the man who can solve her riddle … she will only marry the man who holds her heart. Will the spinner be able to solve the riddle and win her hand or lose her forever?

**DISCLAIMER: **Nope, still don't own anything remotely related to OUAT, more's the pity. This is just for fun. Though the characters and canon do not belong to me, the plot of this fic, however, does. If you see this work anywhere besides AO3 or , please notify me, because it is unauthorized by me as the author to post my works anywhere else. Thanks (o:

**Tags: ** *Belle/Rumpelstiltskin, *Maurice, *Gaston, *Spinner! Rum, *Fluff, *Smut, *Very AU, *Rum never fought in the ogre war, *Rum is NOT lame in this fic, *Rumpelstiltskin Appreciation Week on Tumblr, *Happy Ending,

**A/N:** I wrote this for two reasons. !) in honor of Rumpelstiltskin Appreciation week on Tumblr and 2) for my dear friend Ethereal Wishes. She loves spinner Rum more than anything and feels there are not enough fics about him. Due to the bad week she experienced last week, I thought this might cheer her up. Love you, sprite 3

A Riddle for the Spinner

By:

CharlotteAshmore

His dark sable gaze caressed her petite form, from the tips of her bare toes to the long curling chestnut tresses that framed her angelic face. It seemed as though he was always watching, at least when he could spare a moment from his duties. For ten long arduous years he'd watched the princess, coveting what could never be his. He'd left the Frontlands long ago when the ogres had threatened, seeking the relative peace of the Marshlands, the city of Avonlea nestled by the sea offering him a fresh start. The Frontlands and the vile destruction of the rampaging horde of vicious ogres had taken his wife, his precious son … everything. He couldn't stay there any longer, not with the memories of them crippling him at every turn.

Rumpelstiltskin only knew one thing … spinning. Thankfully, the kind king had offered him a position in the castle when he'd seen the intricate detail and fine craftsmanship of the spinner's thread. He was offered a job, a small room in the castle and a wage that had made his eyes widen in astonishment at the king's generosity. How would he ever spend it all? He could save, but for whom? Money was all well and good, but what good was it when you had no one to share it with? In just two years, he'd secured five apprentices to work under him. He taught nearly as much as he spun, but even his success hadn't been able to banish his longing for his family. Nothing had been able to do that until … until he'd met the princess.

Belle, high princess of Avonlea, the little beauty who had slowly eased his pain and taught him to love again.

She'd been fifteen when he'd come to the jeweled kingdom by the sea. She was as lonely as she was lovely, preferring her books to the simpering ladies of her father's court or his noble knights who sought to win her hand and become her consort. She spared no time for them, preferring to spend her days in her vast library or in other parts of the castle with whom she termed as _real_ people. Her friends were servants all, but she never looked upon them as such. When he'd been hired to work in the spinning and weaving rooms, she'd seen him as a new friend rather than just someone who worked for her father. He hadn't known how to take the strange little royal. He'd heard the whispers about the princess, how she was odd to shirk her duties at court in favor of spending time with her servants and her books. The courtiers believed she thought herself to be better than them. In Rumpelstiltskin's opinion, she _was_ better than they were, by far, but why should he worry about such things when she was so far above him he couldn't reach the hem of her silk skirts with a ladder?

He'd watched her grow from a lovely girl of fifteen into a beautiful woman of twenty five. Not only was she out of reach, but she would never find herself drawn to his much older self. She was half his age after all. Why would she want him when she could have someone her own age … someone handsome, wealthy, and able to give her the life to which she was accustomed? He would never be more than a spinner, but it didn't deter her from spending time with him as he sat spinning in the weaving room, the tall windows open to let the sunlight in to shine upon the rich chestnut of her hair and bring out its hints of burnished auburn.

His Belle - he mentally slapped himself – the _princess_, would spend hours with him, happy to discuss her books, her kingdom and her dreams for the future. At first, he'd listened silently, buried too deep in his memories of his lost family to really care what she had to say. She would merely sit at his side, her ever present guard never far away as he watched over her to be assured the newcomer wouldn't harm the girl or worse … steal her virtue. The king had high aspirations of her finding a worthy husband one day. As the years passed – he really couldn't pinpoint an exact time – he'd slowly opened up to her, sharing his past with her. She'd been sympathetic to his plight and endeavored to make him smile when she visited him, wishing nothing more than to bring a little light into his life to chase away the darkness and despair that had settled deep within his soul.

Lately, however, her sweet gentle nature, her innate happiness, had given way to melancholy. She was well past a marriageable age and the king was no longer the healthiest man in the kingdom. He wished to see her married and settled before he closed his eyes for the last time to forever sleep. He had longed for her to find a love match as he had found with Belle's mother, but their time was simply running out.

Oh how the spinner wished he could put forth his suit for the little princess. She'd slowly burrowed her way into his heart, embedding herself there for all time. He loved her so much, and there was nothing he could do to banish her from his heart, mind and soul. He needed her more than air. He needed her quiet voice while he spun, the soft gentle brushes of her hand against his as she handed him a cup of tea, her sweet smiles as she listened to him, making even the smallest thing seem of the utmost importance to her. He simply needed … _her._

Now as he watched her approach, her feet dragging as they carried her across the rough stone floor with its carpeted runner, he noticed how her shoulders drooped dejectedly. Her enchanting smile was missing from her rosebud mouth and her lovely cerulean eyes were red and filled with sadness. She clutched at the shawl she'd thrown over her thin nightdress, the light wrap doing little to ward off the cool breeze wafting through the open windows.

Rumpelstiltskin rose to his feet and bowed to her as she approached his wheel and the little stool reserved just for her there next to his own. "Highness," he murmured respectfully as her guard moved off to speak with one of his apprentices to afford them a measure of privacy without being too far from her side.

"Good evening to you, Rumpel," she said, settling on the stool as he resumed his seat at the wheel. She lightly touched his arm, drawing his gaze. "How many times do I have to ask you to call me Belle?"

"At least once more, m'lady," he whispered, a teasing smirk curling up one corner of his mouth. "What brings you here so late? Having trouble sleeping again or were you merely caught up in another of your books?" It was possible she had shed her tears over one of her stories, but it was unlikely in light of her father's failing health.

She shook her head, clasping her hands together tightly on her lap and lowering her gaze. "It has been decided."

A muscle twitched in his jaw as he clenched his teeth, realizing their time together would soon end. It was with great effort that he was able to offer her a nod to acknowledge her words. His heart felt as though it were shattering, the onslaught of pain stealing away his breath. He didn't have to ask to which she referred … he knew.

"My father has decreed that I shall marry. He is sending word across the realm that I am to choose a husband and has invited all the nobles to put forth their suit."

"Aye, m'lady," he whispered, swallowing against the agony of his burning throat, unshed tears stinging at his eyes.

She reached out and rested her hand upon his shoulder, exerting gentle pressure, urging him to turn. "Rumpel, won't you even look at me?"

He blinked rapidly to clear his vision and slowly met her gaze, his stomach clenching as he saw the tears swimming in her iolite eyes. "You knew you would have to marry eventually. It won't be s-so bad, now, will it? Perhaps you'll come to love him."

She took his hands in her warm grasp, searching his face for any sign of distress. _She_ was most assuredly distressed and felt he should be sharing some of her upset, but she saw only his concern for her well-being and future happiness. "I will _not_ marry unless I can wed the man I love."

His dark sable eyes flitted across the room to where her guard spoke in quiet tones with his apprentice. "You sound as though you have a specific man in mind, highness," he said softly in hushed tones, turning back to his spinning to hide the jealousy that burned away at his gut. "Surely there must be someone who has caught your fancy … one of your father's noble knights, no doubt. Or a visiting prince perhaps."

"Perhaps I do," she replied, raising her chin stubbornly as she rested her hand on his forearm to still the motion of the wheel. "Rumpel, how can I marry another when it is you who holds my heart?"

He closed his eyes against the pain in his chest as his breathing hitched and his heart clenched. She couldn't mean it … not now when she'd be taken from him forever. He couldn't allow himself to believe she loved him. "Och, now, highness. You shouldna say such things," he stuttered, his brogue thickening as he raised his desperate gaze to meet hers. He rested his hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You cannae mean it."

Belle rose from her stool and turned to her guard and Rumpelstiltskin's apprentice, squaring her shoulders as she quickly donned her royal mien. "Leave us," she commanded, her voice brooking no objection.

"Highness," Thorrin protested as he moved to her side. Adele had already nodded to her master and scurried hurriedly towards the door. "You know very well I cannot leave you unprotected."

"From whom do I need to be protected? Rumpelstiltskin? Have you ever heard him raise his voice to me? Touch me inappropriately or in any way seek to harm me?" she demanded haughtily.

"Of course not, highness. The spinner is very respectful, but –" 

"You may wait for me just outside. Rumpel will see to my safety and well-being for the duration of my visit."

Thorrin cast his wary gaze at the spinner as he sat at his wheel and then back to the princess. "As you wish, highness. I shall wait for you just outside. I will be a mere call away should you need me."

She nodded her regal head and watched him cross the long room and disappear through the archway. Turning back to the wheel, she sighed as she noticed he'd risen from his stool to put more distance between them. She didn't hesitate to join him at the open window, her eyes drawn to the view of the harbor, the moon casting its golden glow over the waters. He flinched when she rested her hand on his shoulder, urging him to turn and face her.

Belle resumed their conversation as if it had never been interrupted. It was a usual occurrence, and it normally brought him amusement that they could go for hours without speaking and pick up right where they'd left off. "I know you love me too, Rum. Do you think me blind or stupid that I cannot see the way you look at me when you think I'm distracted, or hear how you seemingly stop breathing when your hand brushes mine? I assure you I am neither. I love _you_, and I will not marry another so long as I do."

"I don't," he denied, refusing to look into her soulful eyes as she peered up expectantly at him. He would have rathered cut out his own tongue than lie to her about what was in his heart, but he couldn't refute the futility of their situation. It mattered little that his heart had taken wing in his chest at the beauty of her declaration.

"So you would lie to me as well? Don't I get enough of that from the sycophants of my father's court? Somehow I didn't expect that from you too."

"Highness –"

"My name is Belle. Just for once could you please not call me by my title? I don't want you to see me as a princess or yourself as a peasant. I want you to see me as yours," she whispered, taking a tentative step closer to him, mere inches separating them. "I want you to see me as _yours_."

He started as she gently rested her hand at the open vee of his silk shirt, her fingers brushing against his bare skin. His hand covered hers with every intention of moving it away, yet he found himself instead pressing her cool fingertips more firmly against his heated flesh. Again, his eyes flickered to the archway where her guard had disappeared, assuring himself that they were still alone in the cavernous room. "_Belle_, we can't … you can't …" His heavy lids slammed shut, unable to look at the hope shining in her eyes. "I _don't_ love you as you wish. There can never be anything more between us than our friendship." The lie nearly lodged in his throat as it burned his tongue like acid and he choked back a whimper of longing. He wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms and shout with joy that she returned his feelings and that was something he could never do. There was no hope that they could ever be together.

Belle smiled wryly at the obvious lie as her other hand rose to brush the hair away from his eyes. He bit back a moan as her fingers trailed over his cheek, relishing the soft touch. "Look at me, Rumpel," she crooned softly. "Open your eyes and look at me. I want you to convince me you don't love me. If you can, I promise I won't bother you again."

His lips parted, but no sound escaped as he opened his eyes to meet her searching gaze. How was he supposed to look into her eyes and blatantly lie to her? Her hand moved to curl about his nape, her breasts pressing into his chest as she melted into him. When had she moved closer? How had he allowed this to happen? "I-I d-don't …" he couldn't finish. He couldn't let the words pass the lump of raw emotion lodged in his throat.

"I love you, my sweet spinner," she breathed fervently, rising on her bare toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I have for so long. I had to tell you. I couldn't put it off any longer." She repeated the gesture at the other corner as his hands fisted in the fabric of her nightdress over the soft curve of her hips. "I know what's in your heart, Rum. Tell me … please."

Merciful gods! How long had he yearned to hear those words pass her lips? How long had he ached to have her in his arms? It was too good to be true, but he couldn't deny her, had never been able to deny her. "I _do_, Belle," he eked out in a pained whisper. "I love you so much, but you know as well as I that our circumstances will not let us be together. We are doomed to failure."

"I know no such thing," she murmured, elation filling her chest and speeding her heart. "We will find a way. What we have is true and it will not be denied."

"Belle –"

She sighed softly against his lips, her sweet breath fanning over his face. "Kiss me?" she asked, brushing her lips over his in a feather light caress. "Please, Rum?" Her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, her fingers toying with the hair at his nape as he gathered her close to his chest and rested his brow to hers. She couldn't remember ever experiencing a more perfect moment in her life than being held by the man she loved.

He couldn't give in, not yet, not without trying one last time to make her see. "Belle, you still have a chance to find happiness, to find a man who will love you and give you a family … one who will stand beside you as you become queen." It tore at his heart to urge her on a path that would lead her away from him, but he had to put her first. His love for her couldn't allow him to be selfish and grasp at the life she offered him. Her happiness was paramount.

She nuzzled his nose with her own, coaxing his lips closer to hers. "I already have."

An anguished groan escaped his throat as she surged forward, capturing his lips with hers, unable to resist a moment longer. He clasped her tightly to his chest, warmth spreading through him like a brushfire as his heart beat a steady tattoo against his ribs. Every secret fantasy he'd ever had of his precious princess, every yearning hope, every wish seemed to coalesce into being as her lips glided tentatively against his. This was no fantasy … it was so much better. It was real and beautiful and sent a deluge of joy careening through him.

Belle nudged into him more forcefully, the windowsill pressing uncomfortably into the back of his thighs, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about the slight discomfort. His darling was in his arms, awkwardly experimenting with her first kiss and he couldn't be happier that she'd chosen to share it with him. He gasped at the first touch of her tongue as it slid timidly over the seam of his lips.

She pulled away, her eyes wide as they searched his own, afraid for a moment that she'd gone too far. He whimpered at the distress he saw there, instantly regretting the loss of contact. His hand slid around her nape and pulled her forward, slanting his lips over hers once more, taking charge of the kiss. She moaned lowly in her throat as his tongue glided sinuously next to hers, searching out the hollow of her mouth. He explored her at his leisure, wishing nothing more than to bring her as much pleasure as possible, hoping to convey the depth of his love for her in one simple kiss.

The rough clearing of a throat brought an end to their happiness and he jerked his head up to find Thorrin standing just inside the archway with his back turned to them. "Highness," he called, disapproval heavy in his tone.

"I'll be just another moment, Thorrin," she answered a little breathlessly over her shoulder. She refused to turn, unwilling to step out of Rumpelstiltskin's embrace just yet. The guard nodded, but did not retreat, deciding to remain where he was until the princess joined him.

Belle pressed another kiss to her love's lips and cupped his cheek in her hand, her heart shouting with joy as he nuzzled into her warm palm. "Worry not, my love. All will be well and we _will_ be together." She cast him an impish grin as she finally stepped out of the circle of his arms. "I have a plan."

"When do you not?" he chuckled wryly.

"Trust me."

"You know that I do … with all that I am," he murmured earnestly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I just don't see how –"

Her smile was confident and bright as she pulled her shawl closer about her shoulders. "You will, I promise." She rushed forward and stole one more kiss, her cheeks flushed with the bloom of love as she whispered, "I love you," and turned on her heel to hurry to Thorrin's side.

He watched her go, hope still warming his chest that she could make both of their dreams of a future together come true.

X*X*X*X*X

In the weeks that followed, Rumpelstiltskin realized that as much as he loved his princess, he'd seriously underestimated her cleverness. Nobles from all over the realm flocked to Avonlea to put forth their suit, but Belle refused to even consider them unless they could accomplish one simple task. All comers must answer one riddle. Each day at precisely noon, Belle and her father presented themselves before the court to greet their visitors and her potential suitors where she smiled sweetly and dashed their hopes to bits when they were unable to answer her riddle.

Each day, Rumpelstiltskin donned his finest garments – which were a vast improvement to what he'd been accustomed to wearing in his poor village – and sneaked into the great hall, standing far to the back to draw as little notice as possible. And each day, he held his breath as she asked a different riddle, waiting anxiously to see if one of her suitors would be able to answer correctly. Each had left disappointed to return to their homes, thinking the princess had set her standards too high.

It was the evenings, the spinner looked forward to most, however. She came to him each night after most of the palace was asleep, a sweet smile on her face and her eyes bright with happiness. Sometimes she would read to him as he spun, but most times lately it was to discuss the inadequacy of the men who put forth their suit for her hand.

He rested his chin on her shoulder as they stood at the window, content to simply hold her in his arms as they gazed out upon the moonlit harbor. "Eventually, someone is going to solve your riddle, dearest. Then what are you going to do?"

She shrugged. "I suppose I will be forced to accept his suit," she murmured, a frown marring her smooth brow. "That doesn't mean that I will marry him, however."

"Your father will insist," he replied, a sad smile curling his lips. He didn't want to lose her, but he would accept the king's decree should it come to that. She was a princess. She didn't deserve to be tied to a peasant.

Belle turned in his arms and nuzzled into his neck with a sigh of contentment. "I will deal with that if the issue arises." His arms tightened about her as her lips trailed a hot path to his ear. "I love you, Rum, always. I will accept no man but you, my love."

And so it continued, no man clever enough to solve her little riddles and therefore no man lucky enough to win her consideration.

X*X*X*X*X

The king was quickly losing his patience with her.

Belle smiled sweetly at her father as he strode out onto the balcony adjoined to his private chambers where she'd had tea and crumpets brought out for them. "You're late, papa. What kept you?" she asked as she poured chamomile tea into their cups. If anyone needed the calming effects of the brew, it was the king.

"Where was I?" he snapped irritably. "I was seeing another of your potential suitors off in the courtyard. Belle, darling, this has to stop."

She hummed in agreement as she set his cup before him. "It was your idea, papa. I'm simply trying to insure my future."

"How's that? You've turned down every noble who has come calling!"

Belle pursed her lips in displeasure at his tone. "Papa, I've explained this to you. I cannot abide the thought of marrying a man who is not on the same intellectual level as I am. If he cannot answer a simple riddle –"

"Simple, my arse hurts!"

"Papa!" she giggled.

"I don't believe there's a man in the entire realm as smart as you are, my girl," he mumbled, sipping gingerly at his tea. "Won't you please reconsider and do away with the riddles?"

"No."

"But –"

"No. Perhaps we should consider more than just the nobles. There might be another out there who could answer my riddle … a butcher, or a blacksmith, or a –"

"Spinner?" he asked, arching a knowing brow in her direction.

She blushed bright crimson and averted her eyes.

"You're spending entirely too much time with Rumpelstiltskin. It's not that I have anything against the man, but he's not for you, my girl," he said gently.

"I don't spend _all_ my time with Rumpel," she grumbled quietly, picking at the raspberry crumpet on her plate. "Just a few hours in the evening. I find we have a lot in common."

"Such as your love of books?" Maurice asked, his cool blue eyes searching her face. "I think the only other person in the castle who visits the library as much as you is the spinner."

"He shares my love of literature, yes," she admitted, seeing no way around it. They'd been caught in more than one heated discussion over a tome or two. "But he's also kind and gentle. He's my friend."

"Go on, ask," he prodded.

"Ask what?" she queried innocently, folding her hands on her lap.

"You want the spinner to be allowed to put forth his suit," the king sighed, setting his cup back onto the tray with a sigh.

Belle's eyes lit up with the light of hope as she dropped to her knees beside his chair and took his hand in hers. "Would you … consider it, I mean?"

"Belle, darling, he's a peasant."

"It doesn't mean I love him any less, papa. If mother had been a peasant, would it have mattered to you? Would it have deterred you from courting her?" she asked, sending him a meaningful stare.

"No, it wouldn't have mattered. But, Belle, are you so sure he's what you want?"

"With all my heart, papa."

He rose from his chair and walked over to the balustrade, shaking his head. His daughter wanted a peasant … a _peasant_! What was the world coming to? "Are you so certain he wants you in return? What am I saying? What man wouldn't want you, my darling girl?"

"He loves me. Of course he wants to marry me," she chuckled.

"Has he spoken to you about marriage?"

Belle shifted uncomfortably and crossed her arms defensively over her chest. "Not exactly. He doesn't believe that we belong together because he's not a nobleman. Or rather he believes in our love, but not in the possibility of us being together, or –"

"Belle, darling, you're rambling."

She winced. "Sorry."

The king arched a brow at her, determined to get to the bottom of this. "Thorrin," he called, his voice carrying across the balcony and into the sitting room where her faithful guard awaited her. "Come here, lad, will you?"

"Yes, Your Majesty?" he asked, answering the summons at once.

The king looked down at his precious daughter and sighed before turning to the young man. "Please go down to the spinning and weaving room and fetch Rumpelstiltskin. Bring the spinner here at once. I wish to speak with him."

"Papa!" Belle cried, throwing a desperate look after her guard as he rushed to do the king's bidding. She dropped back down in her seat and rested her head in her hands. "Please don't send him away," she pleaded, her eyes beseeching as he sat down next to her and poured them another cup of tea.

"I have no intention of sending your young man away," he assured her.

Belle chuckled, relieved that her fears had been for naught. "Papa? When was the last time you spoke to Rumpel?"

"I know who the spinner is, Belle. I hired him, after all. I know he's a bit older than you, dear, but at my age, I feel everyone is younger than me," he grumbled.

Anticipation wore away at her nerves as she waited for her love to arrive and was nearly bouncing in her seat by the time Thorrin led Rumpelstiltskin out to the balcony – although her jitters might have had something to do with the three cups of tea she'd drunk. Her spinner bowed low before the king, keeping his eyes averted from Belle.

"Majesty," he said, his voice holding a note of nervous quandary. He was forced to look up as the king rose to stand well above his own height.

"It has come to my attention, Spinner, that my daughter favors a match between you. What have you to say of this?"

Rumpelstiltskin shot a baleful glare at Belle as he cleared his throat – several times – and found his voice. "I-I am not opposed, majesty. I care very deeply for your daughter, though I have tried to convince her she could do much better than a lowly peasant to pledge her love."

The king regarded him shrewdly. "That's not what I asked." He waved a dismissive hand and dropped back into his chair. "Well, perhaps I wasn't quite specific enough. Therefore, let me rephrase … do you love my daughter?"

"More than anything in the wide world, sire," he whispered reverently, his eyes caressing her face as he spoke from his heart. "I love her enough to let her go. The only reason I haven't left Avonlea is because I wish for her happiness and to leave would be taking that from her. I will remain until she wishes for me to go and not before."

"And should she choose another?" Maurice asked, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he watched the man's devotion for the princess flicker over his weathered features.

The spinner closed his eyes against the pain that thought brought him, but answered nonetheless. "I would remain until she no longer needed my friendship or my love. Then and only then would I leave Avonlea to seek my fortune elsewhere, sire."

Belle rose from her chair and moved to his side, taking his hand in hers and twining their fingers. "I never wish to be parted from you, Rum," she whispered, losing herself in the beauty of his gaze.

The king had to clear his throat, _humphing_ when they seemed to only have eyes for one another. It reminded him so much of the way her mother used to look at him, it nearly brought him to tears. He rolled his eyes as she finally gave him her attention – after the fourth time he'd called her name.

"Rumpelstiltskin, my daughter wishes you to put forth your suit for her hand. Apparently, she will have no other and I'd really like some grandchildren before I die," the king groaned. "So what say you? Do you wish to marry my Belle?"

The spinner looked at Maurice as if he'd misheard him. He'd come there thinking he'd been summoned for dismissal and instead he was being asked if he wanted to marry the princess. Things like this just didn't happen to him. "I do, sire," he nodded vigorously, his eyes wide with stunned disbelief.

"Very well … you have my blessing," he muttered grudgingly. Belle squealed with delight and threw her arms about Rumpelstiltskin's neck, holding tightly as he clasped her to him and spun her in a circle, his smile as beatific as hers. "Just a minute, you two. You're forgetting about Belle's little problem."

"Problem, sire?" Rumpelstiltskin frowned, bewildered over what the man was going on about.

"Her riddle."

Belle grimaced as she looked between the two men. "I'm certain Rum will have no problem solving my riddle, papa. He's been there in the hall for every one so far and has yet to miss more than two. He's quite brilliant, y'know."

"No, I don't know. This was your grand scheme. I just hope it doesn't backfire on you. So here is what I propose …"

The spinner leaned close to Belle's ear, his snarky rejoinder meant for her ears only. "And here I thought I would be the one proposing."

She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand to keep the sound from traveling to her father. "You were saying, papa?"

"I propose the spinner be taken to the east wing I have had prepared for you and your new husband. It's been renovated and redecorated as a gift for you, Belle. It will be your new apartments where you will reside together after the ceremony." He didn't want to tell her that he'd been purely selfish in wanting her to remain in the palace instead of seeing her and her husband leave off for the royal manor that served as their summer home farther down the coast. "He will remain there for three days and in turn you will reside with your ladies."

Belle groaned. "Papa, really?!"

"Everyone knows of your friendship. I want it clear that you had no contact with him before he comes to you to formally put forth his suit. I don't want anyone speculating that he was somehow privy to your riddle beforehand." He held up a hand to silence her when she would have protested further. "It will be your duty to keep yourself visible with your ladies in waiting, my girl."

"And the wedding?" Rumpelstiltskin couldn't help but ask. "How soon do you think it can be arranged?"

"Eager, are you?" Maurice asked dryly, arching a brow at his future son-in-law. The spinner blushed, staring down at his feet and biting the inside of his lip to keep from shoving his foot further into his mouth.

"Immediately," Belle cut in, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as she smiled up at him. "I think we've waited long enough."

"Very well, daughter. Off with you now to prepare. I think I need a nap."

Belle knew very well that he needed no such thing and was merely giving them a few moments alone before they'd be separated. Rumpelstiltskin gathered her close and pressed his brow to hers, gently nuzzling his nose alongside her own. "What if I can't answer your riddle?"

"Worried so soon? Don't be," she said, brushing her lips lightly to his, all too aware of Thorrin's presence on the balcony. "You're clever enough to see through my riddles. I have every faith in you."

"I still find it so hard to believe that you want _me_ instead of some prince or dashing knight or –"

She covered his lips with her fingertips and shook her head. "I want you, my spinner, only _you_." She replaced her fingers with her lips and kissed him sweetly. "I love you, Rumpelstiltskin."

"Aye, love, as I do you."

X*X*X*X*X

Rumpelstiltskin fidgeted nervously, forcing himself to breathe as he waited outside the immense double doors leading into the Great Hall of the palace. For three days he hadn't been allowed even the minutest contact with his precious girl. No brief hellos on her way to breakfast with her father, no afternoon conversation over tea, and no late night discussions as he sat at his wheel. And most assuredly no stolen kisses and innocent caresses as they watched the moon rise over the harbor. It had been torture to be away from her. Before they'd admitted their love for one another, it had been enough to sit with her and enjoy her company. Now that she'd professed her love and desire to be with him, he longed for more. So much more.

"What if she changes her mind?" he started, realizing he'd spoken aloud.

Adele, his young apprentice, brushed imaginary lint from the shoulders of his long brown brocade frock coat and straightened one of the gold clasps that held it closed over his chest. "Her highness is not going to change her mind, master. We've all seen how much she cares for you," the girl said, offering him unnecessary reassurances.

"Two others arrived this morning to vie for her hand," he nodded in the direction his competition as they too paced through the corridor. "What if she likes them better?"

"Master, please," Adele scoffed, grasping his shoulders and giving him a little shake. "Get ahold of yourself."

Micah, another of his apprentices, rushed into the corridor holding a single red rose trimmed of its thorns. "Master, your token for the princess. You forgot it in your chamber," the boy said, out of breath from having run all the way from the east wing.

Rumpelstiltskin wrung his hands nervously. "I'd left it there apurpose, lad. Those two no doubt have gold or jewels to offer Belle. A rose will pale in comparison to what they can offer her."

Adele threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "So what? You're giving up before you've even entered the hall? What's wrong with you? Where is your confidence, your faith in the princess? Show a bit of character!" she hissed. "You have something those other two oafs lack … Belle's heart. Did you forget so soon? Or did you leave the knowledge back in your room along with your spine?"

Micah snorted and surveyed him speculatively, taking in the long brocade frock coat over his black silk shirt and leather pants, his boots polished to a high shine. "You can do this, master," he said encouragingly as the double doors opened and a blast of the trumpet met their ears. "Now get in there and claim what's yours!"

His apprentices gave him a firm shove in the direction of the doors and he gulped audibly as he followed the two nobles into the hall. The long carpeted runner in the center of the gleaming marble floor seemed a league long as he forced one foot in front of the other. He'd been here for every suitor that had presented himself for Belle's riddle, but never had he felt so exposed. He'd preferred to skulk at the back of the room, well out of sight of the court. Now it was his turn to be on display and he could feel the bile churn in his stomach as he slowly approached the dais upon which she and her father sat patiently.

He felt his face heat with stinging color as he passed more and more of the courtiers, their whispers burning his ears.

_The spinner!_

_What is he doing here?_

_Surely he's not so bold as to present himself for her hand!_

_The nerve of him._

_Peasant!_

_Presumptuous!_

They went on and on, and his cowardice grew as his feet carried him forward, everything within him telling him to run, to flee, to save himself. It was then that he raised his gaze and met Belle's clear cerulean eyes, all the love in the world shining there in their depths, and his fear retreated, flowing out of him on a sigh. She was there, waiting for _him_, wanting _him_, loving … _him._ The world righted itself on its axis and everything became clear and he was no longer afraid.

Belle clasped her hands tightly on her lap as the king rose from his throne and came to stand at the edge of the dais, spreading his arms wide as he looked down upon her suitors. "Welcome," he intoned, his loud boisterous voice carrying to all corners of the hall. He moved to the man on the far right and motioned him forward. "Your name, sir, if you will?"

The man bowed before the king in a show of respect before lifting his cool emerald gaze. "I am Ephraim, prince of Devondelle to the west, Your Majesty. I have come to seek your daughter's hand in hopes that we might unite our kingdoms in peace and prosperity." He motioned to his manservant, who brought forth a small gilded chest. "I bring a token of my affection for Princess Belle in the hopes that she will see my intentions are true."

Belle rose and moved to stand at her father's side as the prince's servant hurried up the steps and lifted the lid of the chest for her perusal. Inside was an emerald nearly as large as her hand. "It's breathtaking, thank you," she said amiably as she dropped into a curtsey. Her manner was polite and expected of her, but there was no warmth in her gaze.

Maurice restrained himself from rolling his eyes and moved to the next man. This one was tall with dark eyes and exuded an air of confidence that clearly stated he wouldn't be leaving until after the wedding. Belle wrinkled her nose and snapped open her fan to hide the gesture. The king arched a brow at the man and asked again, "Your name, sir?"

"I am Sir Gaston of the Northlands, sire. I was told that your daughter's beauty rivaled my own and I found myself intrigued."

Belle's eyes widened at his vain reply and she could hardly contain the laughter bubbling up in her chest. _What a pompous ass! _"And did you bring a token of your affection as well?" she asked dryly, eager to see what he would deem a worthy gift.

With a snap of his fingers, a short squat little man rushed forward with a large object draped with a cloth. He stopped next to his master and Gaston whipped the cloth aside with a flourish. Belle gasped at the gaudy painting, her eyes widening in horror. It was a portrait … of the vain knight standing before her.

"Um … I don't know what to say," she floundered, too stunned to say more. The man's audacity and outright vanity left her speechless.

"I have that effect on women," he said boldly.

Belle grasped her father's arm and send him a helpless look, pleading with him to hurry things along. Maurice shook his head in bemusement and nodded at Rumpelstiltskin. "Ah, master spinner, there is no need to introduce you to this court," he said kindly. "You have been a friend to my daughter for many years as well as one of this kingdom's finest craftsmen. Welcome, Rumpelstiltskin."

The spinner swallowed nervously, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips as he bowed to the king. "Sire. May I approach?" The king beckoned him forward and he climbed the steps, careful with his footing so as not to trip. He dropped to one knee at Belle's feet and flicked his hair away from his eyes with a toss of his head as he met her gaze. "For you, my princess," he said softly, the warm tone of his voice a caress to her frazzled nerves. "A token of my highest esteem … if you'll have it."

Belle reached out and grasped the stem of the rose, her fingers brushing ever so lightly over his warm skin. "Thank you, Rumpelstiltskin. It's beautiful," she breathed, raising the bloom to her nose and inhaling deeply, her cheeks coloring in a rosy blush.

"It pales in comparison to your radiant beauty, highness," he murmured.

This time the king did roll his eyes – though this time amused rather than revolted - and urged the spinner to his feet to return to his place at the bottom of the steps. "As you must know, before my daughter will accept any petition for her hand, you must first answer a riddle. If you do not wish to continue, you may exit to your left."

The three remained where they were and Belle nodded, twirling the rose gently between her fingertips as she stepped forward. Her father took a step back and gave her the floor. She smiled at each of the men – though her gaze lingered a bit longer on her spinner – and cleared her throat. He looked so nervous and her heart went out to him. She prayed that she'd chosen a riddle that would be easy enough for him to answer, yet difficult enough to stump the others. She'd found that royals flocking to her kingdom to vie for her hand were rather dull between the ears. Ask them about any matter of warfare and politics, and they had a ready answer. Ask them about literature or a simple riddle and one could literally see the light fade from their eyes and their brains completely shut down.

The hall fell silent, all eyes upon them as her voice rang out. "_For some I go fast __…__ for others I__'__m slow. To most people I__'__m an obsession, but relying upon me is a well-practiced lesson. What am I?"_

The king sent her a doleful look as his mind scrambled to pick apart her riddle and search for the answer. The two visiting nobles had the same puzzled look, but Rumpelstiltskin simply smiled. Maurice stepped forward once more and addressed her suitors. "Prince Ephraim? Do you have an answer for the princess?"

The blonde prince met her gaze and smiled. "Is it gold, your highness? Depending on the economy it can be gained quickly or slowly. I have many personal friends who would claim it to be an obsession and we are all in a position to rely upon it."

Belle returned his smile and the hall waited with bated breath to see if someone had finally given her a correct answer after all this time. "I'm sorry, Prince Ephraim, but that is incorrect."

The prince bowed to her. "It was a great pleasure to meet you, princess. I wish you the very best of luck," he said amiably and took his leave.

"That one was rather nice," the king murmured in an aside. "Are you sure he –"

"Papa," she growled through clenched teeth, her eyes flashing with warning.

Maurice shrugged, a teasing light in his eye as he turned to the next man. He groaned inwardly, praying the knight wouldn't have the correct answer either. He could just imagine having to install mirrors throughout the palace so the man would be able to preen to himself at every turn. "Sir Gaston? Do you have an answer for my daughter?"

Belle cringed as the knight planted his hands on his hips and smiled up at her, his pearly white teeth glinting in the sunlight streaming through the tall windows. "I do, Your Majesty. It is obviously the hunt. Any hunt depending on the game will be one of the two, fast or slow. Any hunter worth his salt will be obsessed with his pastime and we rely on the hunt to provide meat for our families and treasured trophies for our dens."

She cast her father a look that clearly said, _Is this guy for real?! _"I'm sorry, Sir Gaston, but that answer in incorrect."

"What? Impossible! I am _never_ wrong. It must be you who are mistaken."

"You dare argue with the princess? No one is privy to her riddles before they are announced each day in this room. Guards!" the king bellowed. "See him to the gate!"

The knight was led from the hall, blustering and protesting the entire way. Belle was able to take a rather relieved breath when his objections faded into nothing and she realized only Rumpelstiltskin was left to answer.

Butterflies took wing in her belly as her father clasped his hands behind his back and arched a brow at him. "Well, master spinner … are you ready with your answer?"

The spinner's gaze flickered from the king over to Belle, his warm sable eyes caressing every inch of her face as he nodded. She raised a hand and laid it over her heart, feeling as if it were trying to beat out of her chest and take flight. The corner of his mouth lifted into a half moon grin as he answered simply, "Time."

"That's it?" Maurice boomed, nearly as nervous as his daughter over the answer. Merciful Gods! What if he was wrong? His gaze sought out Belle – who was no help at all – as she stood seemingly frozen in place.

"Yes! You are correct," she said, nodding vigorously as tears gathered in her eyes to flow unchecked over her ashen cheeks. She held out her hand to him and he quickly made his way up the steps to her side.

The hall erupted in polite applause, the court stunned that a mere peasant had finally been able to answer their princess's riddle at last.

Rumpelstiltskin dropped to one knee and took her hand in his as he withdrew an elegant filigree ring from the breast pocket of his coat. Delicate ivy leaves making up the band, a tiny polished moonstone gleaming upon each leaf. "Will you have me as your husband, highness? Will you allow me to love you, Belle … forever?"

Belle pressed her lips into a thin line, striving for composure before the court, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hold back the happy tears that continued to flow over her cheeks. She cradled his beloved face in her warm palms and pressed her brow to his. "Yes! Yes, I will have you," she whispered as he slipped his ring onto her finger.

The king raised his hand and garnered the attention of the court as Belle melted into Rumpelstiltskin's embrace, relieved to have him bound to her at last. "Citizens of Avonlea! Rejoice! Our princess has finally chosen!"

X*X*X*X*X

Once again, he played the waiting game, he thought with a chuckle. He had a feeling he would always be waiting for his precious Belle. He leaned against the archway that led out onto their private terrace and breathed in the scent of the roses in bloom. It had become a sanctuary in the days he'd been exiled to the east wing, one he hoped his bride would enjoy just as much. The apartments, provided by the king and his generosity, was large and spacious. It wasn't just a room, but large enough to raise a family. On the ground floor leading from the castle proper was a large solarium that led out into the castle gardens, the second floor housed a modest library with nearly as many books as they had enjoyed in the palace library, the third floor had been set aside with several rooms that would be used for their– his heart skipped a beat at the thought of having a family with his darling love – children. But it was the top floor that was his favorite.

It was the top floor that housed their bedchamber, bathing suite and dressing room. He shook his head in amusement, not having realized how many clothes Belle possessed until her maids had moved her things into their suite. His eyes flickered over to the immense bed, draped in blue and gold and a blush warmed his cheeks. A cheery blazed crackled in the hearth, the only light in the room aside from the rays of the moon filtering in from the terrace. Plush rugs covered the marble floor, colorful tapestries hung from the walls and his spinning wheel sat nearby. It was still hard to believe that he was expected to occupy such a grand place considering his humble beginnings. Still he would walk away from it should Belle wish it.

The spinner needed nothing aside from her. He smiled wistfully as he heard the sounds of her splashing in the other room, gently scolding her maids to hurry with her bath. He wondered if she were as nervous as he. He pushed the thought aside and pulled forth the memory of their wedding. The court had been scandalized that she'd not wanted to wait another moment for the ceremony. The king had ordered the carriage and sent a runner ahead to the chapel to alert the clerics and prepare for their arrival. He'd felt exposed as the open carriage had rolled through the village, nobles and commoners alike, lining the cobbled streets to get a look at the man who had finally captured the heart of their princess.

The ceremony had been simple and over rather quickly, enabling them to return for the feast being prepared by the palace kitchens. It had all been a blur to him, however. He was still in awe that his Belle was now his bride. How had he ever won her love, he mused with a wry grin. Why would a princess want a humble spinner to stand at her side as she ruled her kingdom?

He was so lost in his own thoughts, he startled as she wrapped her arms about him from behind - having finally finished with her bath – and rested her cheek against his back. "I'm sorry I took so long, husband. My maids were a bit excited."

His hands trembled slightly as he pulled her around to face him, his breath catching painfully in his throat as he gazed at her flawless beauty. "Oh, Belle. You … ah … y-you're beautiful," he stammered.

Belle leaned up on her toes and met his lips in a gentle kiss as she brushed away the hair that had fallen over his eyes. "Darling, I'm the one who is supposed to be nervous," she chuckled, twining her fingers with his and guiding him over to the hearth rug where her maids had set out several pillows for their comfort and a tray with wine and refreshment as per the princess's instructions.

Rumpelstiltskin murmured something that sounded like _'performance anxiety'_, but he followed her regardless, dropping easily to the plush sheepskin rug at her side. What if he disappointed her? What if he couldn't please her? What if she called the whole thing off and decided she didn't want to be married to him after all? His fears only increased as she climbed onto his lap and straddled his thighs, her soft curves pressing into his lean lines as she made herself comfortable.

Belle cradled his face in her warm palms and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her eyes widening as his breathing increased to sharp pants. "Rumpel, you've got to relax, my love," she said softly, stroking her fingers through the soft hair at his temples. "I promise I'm not going to turn into a succubus and eat you. I might nibble a little, perhaps, but I'm sure you'll survive."

He exhaled on a long huff and couldn't help but laugh at her quip. "You think I'm being ridiculous don't you?" he asked, opening his mouth to accept a bit of the strawberry she brought to his lips. "Belle, it's been a … it's been a really long time and I never was really … well …" He moaned softly as she brushed the berry back and forth across his mouth until they shone with sweetness and gently nipped at his lips. "W-What if—"

She popped the rest of the fruit in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully as she covered his lips with her fingertips to cut off his protests. "Rumpel, I love you. I _want_ to be with you in every way. You won't disappoint me," she smiled, reaching for the bottle of wine and pouring a small measure into the single glass.

He drank some of the sweet white wine, enjoying how the flavor of the strawberries tasted with the wine, but to Belle he still looked as though he were sucking on sour lemons. "Belle –"

Again, she tried to soothe him, rubbing gently at the tense muscles of his shoulders. "Close your eyes, Rum," she hummed, smiling when he hurried to obey. "Just relax, close your eyes, and tell me what you see yourself doing?"

"Failing miserably," he groaned, clasping her hands in his and bringing them to his lips to kiss her fingertips.

"Rumpelstiltskin!"

"I'm sorry," he apologized, his brow falling forward to rest on her shoulder.

Belle sat back, resting her weight more firmly on his knees as she cast him a worried stare. "I can see now you're not going to relax until we've talked about this." She gave his hands a firm squeeze and nodded. "Tell me what's troubling you and we'll fix it. There's nothing we can't work through together."

"I should have discussed this with you _before_ the wedding," he mumbled in an agonizing whisper. "Belle, I don't know how to be your consort. I barely know how to be a husband! What if I muck things up? It won't just be us … it will be the entire kingdom and … I don't want you to be disappointed in me." He lowered his gaze, his stomach coiled with dread to see the condemnation surely there in her eyes.

She wouldn't let him hide from her, however as she reached beneath his chin to tilt his face up to hers. "You could never disappoint me, my love. I didn't marry you because I wanted a consort or the perfect husband. I just want _you_. If you wish to leave Avonlea, I'd be proud to be a spinner's wife, and if you wish to remain here, we will. I don't care as long as I'm with you. You are my _home_, Rumpelstiltskin." She brushed her fingertips lightly over his brow to ease away the lines of his worried frown and then followed it with her lips. "Papa will teach you everything you need to know, Rum, and as brilliant as you are, there's nothing that you can't accomplish."

"I think you had too much wine at the feast, dearest," he replied dryly.

Belle giggled and leaned forward to trail her lips over the light stubble on his jaw on a clear path to his ear. "I had two glasses of wine with dinner," she purred. "You just don't like it when I offer you much needed praise." Her hands slid over the lapels of his brocade robe to the clasps, taking her time to free each one. "You were so brave to face the court this morning, darling."

"I was petrified."

"You were brave … and so handsome … and confident …" she continued, punctuating her praise with kisses to his neck and over the rapidly beating pulse point beneath his jaw. "I couldn't wait for you to join me on the dais and put forth your suit and your token was so special, Rum. It came from your heart. Of all the gifts I've received since this whole suitor business began … I cherished your rose the most."

He startled as her cool fingertips brushed his robe aside and splayed over his chest as she pushed the rich fabric from his shoulders. There was definitely nothing shy about his little wife, he thought, as he swallowed convulsively and shifted beneath her. "Belle … I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you, too," she breathed as she felt him finally relax against the pillows. "I have since I first met you and you still thought of me as a meddlesome child."

His beauty cooed softly as he gathered her close and dropped a tender kiss in the valley between her breasts. "You were an audacious little thing who spit fire at me when I ordered you from my spinning room. How was I to know I would fall so deeply in love with you, hm?" he asked quietly, trailing slow open mouthed kisses over the swells of her breasts over the lace trim of her bodice.

Her hands delved lightly into his hair, the soft brown strands weaving in and out through her fingers in a silken caress. She sighed. "Well … perhaps not the first moment, but it didn't take long, and I knew I would love you forever."

His thumbs hooked beneath the lace of her gauzy robe and eased it back over her shoulders, his hands smoothing over her slender arms as he followed the fabric to her wrists. "So beautiful, my precious wife."

Her lips parted on a gasp of pleasure to hear her new title roll smoothly from his tongue. Of all the titles she'd worn in her life – or would ever wear in future – that would always be her favorite. His lips carefully slanted over hers, gently, softly and she whimpered slightly as his tongue ghosted over the seam of her lips. She knew if she allowed it, he would spend the entire evening there before the fire content with nothing but kissing her for hours. Frankly, she wanted more, needed more.

"Rum …" She pushed against his chest and his hands fell away to rest lightly on her knees, afraid he'd offended her in some way. She chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip, her cheeks flushing a brilliant hue. "Can we … ah … can we go to bed now?"

He blinked at her several times, surprised by her boldness. She'd never hesitated to tell him what she wanted before, so now really shouldn't have come as such a shock. "Belle, love. We don't have to do this tonight. I will wait until you are –"

She grinned sheepishly as she rose to her feet and held out a hand to him. "I think I've waited for you long enough, Rumpelstiltskin." She glanced down at his erection straining against his thin cotton pants and arched a brow. "Um … I'd say from the looks of it, you have as well," she teased.

The spinner swept her up into his arms and bore her the short distance to the bed as she giggled, wrapping her own arms tightly about his neck. He laid her crosswise over the bed, casting her a shy glance as he knelt beside her and gently pressed a kiss to her lips, the softness of his mouth, the tenderness of his touch bringing her laughter to an end as she succumbed to the pleasure he offered. No longer would they share stolen kisses in the spinning room late of an evening. Now she could rest securely in his embrace as she drifted off with Morpheus, her dreams filled with her husband and their future together. No longer would she have to yearn for his warm presence by her side, but would now be able to lay contented in his arms. It was how they'd always been meant to be.

He drew away from her, far too soon, to kneel between her feet, his hot sable gaze sweeping her from tip to toe. She sucked in a startled breath as he raised her dainty foot and pressed his lips to the smooth skin of her ankle. Who would have known that her skin would be so sensitive … _there_? She found the sensations only increased in intensity as he traversed up her leg to the back of her knee. She gave a little cry and quickly covered her mouth with her hand, startled that she'd made such a sound.

Rumpelstiltskin grinned unrepentantly at her and pulled her hand away with a kiss to her fingertips before returning to where he'd left off. "Don't hide yourself away from me, my Belle. I want to hear you. I want to know the things you enjoy." She moaned as his lips traced over the smooth flesh of her inner thigh, her hips arching ever so slightly. "I want to learn your body, my precious, know what brings you pleasure and what causes you dislike."

Her breathing quickened and she writhed restlessly beneath him as he paid the same exacting attention to her other leg to end once more between her thighs. The hem of her lace gown rested just below the juncture there and her dark desire-laden eyes remained fixed on him, anxious to see what he would do next. He rested his hands over hers when she would have reached for it to pull over her head. "Are you sure you're ready to reveal all, my darling?"

Belle nodded jerkily, her skin hot with the need to press her bare flesh to his. "I want to feel you, Rum. I want to feel you against me … please." Her hands slid over his shoulders and along the thick cords of his neck as she sat up beside him and pulled his lips down to meet hers, reveling in the taste of his tongue as it slipped effortlessly alongside hers. She lost herself in the pleasure of his kiss and then she was bare and being lowered back onto the soft silken duvet, his chest pressing gently into hers.

He leaned back and watched her in stunned fascination, his lips parted in awe. "I'll never understand why you chose me, Belle," he whispered, his gaze taking in every delectable bare inch of her.

Her hands slid up over the smooth plane of his back in a careful exploration as she tried to learn his body by touch alone. He bit down gently on the tendon in the crook of her neck as she hit a particularly sensitive spot near his left shoulder blade. She arched beneath him, all thoughts of teasing aside as a fresh wave of heat coursed through her body. "I've always c-chosen you, Rum. Y-You just never r-realized it."

Her husband mapped a hot path down her throat, lips, teeth and tongue working in harmony to elicit more of the little moans singing past her lips which fired his own blood and made his cock strain with need. He grabbed her hand and pinned it to the bed as her nails snaked down and scratched lightly at his nipple, drawing a long hiss from between his teeth.

She grinned wickedly as she took in his reaction. "You like that?" she asked breathlessly, completely relaxed by the weight of his grip.

His little wife keened long and loud as his hot mouth closed over her nipple, his teeth scraping gently before he rasped over it with his tongue. "I like everything you do, my love. It's just not quite a good idea for you to touch me right now if you'd like to prolong our activities."

"Rumpelstiltskin, that's not fair. I want to touch … ooh … too," she breathed. She was overwhelmed with sensation, unsure if she wanted to draw away because it was too intense or press closer to the heat of his mouth for more.

He smiled against her lips as he moved back up over her, feeling the same need that raced through her blood, that overpowering need to be joined with the woman he loved above all else. "Now is not the time to assert your stubbornness, little wife. I promise you can torture me to your heart's content … later." He rested his brow against hers as he fought for some semblance of control. "Please, love … please just let me _try_ to make this good for you."

Belle bit her lip in anguish, cradling his cheek in her palm. She wondered why it was never enough for him. It was never enough confidence, enough experience, just … enough. She nodded. "You already have, Rum."

He gave himself over to her lips with a ragged sigh, never having felt such love and devotion from another person. Always in his life before, he'd never been enough … for his father, for his wife. Milah, though she had stayed with him and devoted herself to raising their son and caring for their home, she'd never been happy with him. In fact, she'd been quite vocal with his shortcomings, making sure he knew that he was inadequate. Yet, Belle responded to him as though he were handing her the stars, that every touch brought her joy and made her feel cherished.

He vowed to always make her feel that way as he pushed his memories aside and focused on his bride, her body arching into his hand with the lightest touch as it ghosted reverently over her hip. He broke the kiss as his hand brushed the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs, her body stiffening in alarm for a moment before she allowed herself to relax under his touch. Her breath came in sharp little pants, her eyes never leaving his as he gently caressed her, his nimble fingers sliding over her slick flesh.

How many times had she proclaimed her desire for him, and yet it was something entirely different feeling the evidence for himself. A hot blush rose in her cheeks as she lifted her hips, seeking more friction to combat the ache building deep in her core. Her nails scored the flesh of his shoulders, her little hands pulled at his hair and she lay wrecked beneath him as he played her body like his wheel, one lone finger slipping past her entrance to tease the silken folds hidden beyond.

She was exquisite in her passion, her inner folds clenching about his hand as she writhed and squirmed in his embrace, unintelligible sounds emitting from her throat in increasing pitch as his thumb traced alongside the little bundle of nerves above her entrance. He gently eased in and out over and over, setting up a gentle pace so as not to overwhelm her with the newness of it all. He could feel her body tighten as the wave built, her walls fluttering erratically as she prepared to crest and it was him she clasped roughly, his name that she cried as she fell over into the abyss that left her shaken and weak with pleasure.

He brushed the hair away from her damp brow as the light sheen of sweat covering her body helped cool her in the evening air filtering in through the window. He pressed soft kisses along the curve of her jaw, using the time to get control of his own ragged breathing and rapid heartbeat. "Are you alright, my love?" he asked, tilting her chin up for a lingering kiss.

She swallowed convulsively, panting softly as she met his dark gaze. "C-Can I … um … can I touch you like that? Will it feel the same?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. She reached for the ties of his cotton pants, relieved when he didn't stop her from loosening the stays to push them down over his slim hips.

He groaned, his head dropping down onto her shoulder as her little hand delved in and wrapped about his turgid shaft. "God, woman, you're going to end me before the night is over."

She giggled and used her feet to push his pants the rest of the way down his legs and then over the side of the bed, leaving him as bare as she was. Her amusement quickly fled as his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling him flush with his body, and she could feel his arousal hard and hot against her hip. It was then that fear of the unknown crept in to chill the blood in her veins. She would have been fine if she hadn't had to listen to her ladies harp on the duties of the marriage bed for three days.

Her husband slipped between her legs and buried his face in her neck, peppering it with the lightest of kisses as he stroked the hair away from her brow. He locked his gaze with hers, worry in the sable depths. "Where'd you go, sweetheart? Your mind is leagues away."

Her myriad fears melted away as he smiled, her husband, her sweet spinner, the one man in the realm she was meant to love with not just her heart, but her soul. "I'm here, Rum … I'm here with you where I belong. I love you," she whispered, pulling him down for a kiss, her lips sliding sweetly on his, coaxing him to open for her.

Belle wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clasping him tightly, never wanting to let him go as she shifted beneath him, cradling his hips with hers, urging him forward, welcoming him. He gave her hip a gentle squeeze, the blunt head of his cock hot and aching as it pressed closer to her entrance, her essence coating him thickly as it met the heat of her center. "Are you certain, Belle? You have to be sure."

He groaned as she wrapped her legs over his hips and used her feet to pull him forward, throwing him off balance just enough for him to slide an inch or two forward into her silken folds. "Do it … do it now, Rum," she commanded in a ragged whisper, her muscles tensing with the threat of the pain to come … and he stopped. He needed her to relax if he were going to do this with the least amount of pain possible.

He could feel her practically vibrating with tension and it took every ounce of control not to thrust, to claim his right as her husband. He loved her too much to cause her pain and fear that would carry into any pleasure they may share later and dampen the memory of something that should by all rights be beautiful and pure. His lips stole over hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, plundering every crevice he knew to bring her joy as his hand snaked down between them to circle the little nub of flesh that throbbed and canted a cadence of exquisite torture through her limbs. Slowly, her body began to ease, her muscles melting into pliable flesh as she let the pleasure build and take hold of her very essence of life, her heart beating in time with his.

He thrust shallowly, increasing her need as each time he moved a little deeper. He couldn't remember ever having felt anything so exquisite as his precious wife wrapped so tightly around him, clenching him to the point of pain, slowly shattering his slim control. He could already feel his loins tightening and drawing up close to his body in preparation to spill his seed into her waiting womb. Her walls fluttered with the onset of her climax and he drew a deep breath and broke through her maidenhead as she quivered in his arms and keened his name, her nails digging deeply into the straining muscles of his back.

Belle tightened her legs about his hips, holding him cocooned in her embrace as he finally released the firm control he exerted and let himself go, his head falling heavily to her shoulder, a loud rumbling moan breaking free of his chest as he spilled himself within her. She stroked his damp locks away from his eyes and shushed him softly as he fought for some semblance of normal to his breathing. He was spent, drained and more sated than he could ever recall being in his life.

Finally, he rolled to his side to relieve her of his weight and pulled her into his side, pressing a kiss to her brow. "Are you alright, my love? Did I hurt you?"

Belle yawned widely and shook her head as she nuzzled deeper into his embrace. "I'm perfect," she cooed, tossing a leg over both of his and wrapping an arm over his ribs. "I always knew the way you made me feel inside was special and precious, Rumpelstiltskin, but I never knew it could be so overwhelmingly wonderful."

"Aye, little Belle, I feel the same. I've never felt anything like what we shared."

She cast him an impish grin, her eyes smiling as she peeked up from beneath her lashes. "I hope papa will understand if we don't join him for breakfast."

"Oh?" the spinner chuckled.

"Indeed. I have a feeling we'll be busy," she giggled.

He rolled over with her, his mouth claiming hers in a searing kiss that promised untold delights to occupy the hours ahead. "Just promise me one thing?"

"Anything."

"No more of your scheming, no more of your wily machinations – unless I am privy to them – and …"

"And what, my darling husband?" she purred, trailing her lips along his stubbled jaw.

"No more riddles for your spinner."

**A/N: So in honor of Rumpelstiltskin Appreciation Week, I sat here with my bum hand and pecked this little story out for you. The last part was unedited (I hate editing my own poorly written smut thank you very much) so don't eat me. I'll do better next time (o: I hope you enjoyed this and decide to leave me some feedback. Love and hugs to you all!**

**And for lovely, sprite. Darling, I really hope you enjoyed this. I know how you adore the spinner most of all. Love you so much, my dear friend 3**


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